


When Do I Not See You

by zombiechick



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiechick/pseuds/zombiechick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara swooning over the Doctor's new punkish look.  The Doctor happily using her swooning to his advantage.  Total PWP here.  Rated E for later, inevitable, smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clara cursed and dropped the oily wrench to the floor. She had her knuckle half-way to her mouth before she realized her error. Her lips curling at the black grime that coated her hands, she took up a shop rag and opted to wrap the injured digit instead. Sitting back on the floor, she blew out a frustrated breath. The TARDIS briefly dimmed the lights in sympathy.

She sat with her elbows on her knees, clad in a dark blue pair of coveralls. Steel-toed boots adorned her feet and her hair was pulled back in a clip. Gazing again at her motorbike's partly disassembled carburetor, she sighed, "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

There was the occasional down day aboard the TARDIS. The Doctor had, recently, been keeping himself busy with his guitar. Clara could hear him now in his work room, strumming chords, picking up on the odd riff that he liked or suddenly belting out a song in its entirety.

Clara could see, in her minds eye, how he would look- hair disheveled, chewing on his lower lip, his t-shirt stuck to his back as he moved, danced, and cavorted for no one but himself. She loved to see him happy like this. She'd brought her motorbike on board to provide an activity for herself but often found his playing too distracting to get any real tinkering done on her bike.

She wasn't complaining, wasn't annoyed at all, just terribly, terribly distracted. Ever since she'd first seen him in that medieval arena, the fingers of his right hand grasping a pick while the fingers of his left slid up and down the neck, caressing and coercing those lovely sounds from the instrument, she'd been distracted.

The music had called to her like a siren's song; the way that nearly everything about the Doctor called to her. He was playful and charming when he held his guitar; flirty with lots of toothy side grins and come-hither looks over the rims of his ever present sunglasses. She'd even go so far as to call him devastatingly sexy. Clara was completely in his thrall. Unable to concentrate on her own task any longer, she wiped her hands off on a shop rag and gave in. 

She considered knocking on the door of his work room, just as courtesy, but knew that there was no way he'd hear her over the current screeching solo he was playing. Letting herself in, she found the Doctor just as she suspected she would. Ray-bans firmly in place, t-shirt sticking to his back, plaid trousers, and thumping around in black Doc Martins as he wailed on his guitar.

Clara felt a warm flutter in her stomach. Her jaw dropped open a bit as his arm muscles flexed while he played. Clara licked at her lips and took a deep and shuddering breath. "My god," she murmured huskily.

The Doctor stopped his playing and swiveled around smoothly, "You called?" he grinned at her.

The sudden silence in the room was a bit deafening. Clara smiled, giggling with uncertainty, as she smoothed out her hair. Her hand brushing against her cheek made her realize that she was sporting a large smear of grease. 

The Doctor grinned at her, and stalking forward slowly, started a familiar riff. A punkishly distorted version of "Oh Pretty Woman" washed over Clara as he turned and circled around her. Clara felt a sweat break out on the back of her neck; imagining that she could almost feel the air disturbance from the chords that the Doctor was pounding out around her.

Coming back full circle to stand in front of her, the Doctor smiled again.  
"Is that our song now?" Clara asked before blushing a bit as she realized what the question was suggesting.

The Doctor swung the guitar behind his back and lowered his glasses to watch Clara over the rims as he stepped closer, "It's an apt description of one of us," he practically purred as he gave her a wolfish grin.

Clara bit at her lower lip to keep a nervous laugh from escaping; she still wasn't accustomed to the charm. "Hardly," she countered as she swiped at the grease with the sleeve of her coveralls.

The Doctor stepped directly into Clara's space, "Pretty' may be too vague a word," he murmured, as he took off his glasses and gazed down at her.

"Is it?" Clara squeaked, very aware of the Doctor's close proximity and the heat that emanated from him.

The Doctor's hands slid around Clara's hips, pulling her to him slowly, gauging her reaction, "The phrase 'devastatingly sexy' springs to mind," he grinned before bending his head down to claim her mouth with a hard kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progressing toward the E rating. Just a bit of banter. This is turning out to be a bit of a slow burner. Comments make me write faster.

It was difficult to think straight when the Doctor was doing such a brilliant job of kissing all coherent thought from Clara's mind. But, something was bothering her. "Poking around in my thoughts now?" she asked huskily. "Devastatingly sexy?" she said by way of explanation.

"I didn't have to poke around," he assured her as he kissed down her neck, heading for the zipper of her coveralls, "you were practically shouting it. I thought it summed you up perfectly."

Clara blushed at the compliment and then gasped as the Doctor's tongue traced her collarbone. "Right now? I look a mess," she laughed as she threaded her fingers through the Doctor's hair.

The Doctor groaned, "My Clara, you're always a bit of a mess."

"Wha?!" she squeaked and yanked on his hair with force.

The Doctor yelled and jumped back, laughing, as he saw Clara's murderous expression. "But I love you for it."

"Hmmm," she answered trying to gauge the meaning of his comment and still not mollified. 

Giving Clara one of his cheeky side grins and moving toward her again, he murmured, "I mean, you, you're Clara Oswald. I'm just an idiot in a box, with a screwdriver." 

"And a guitar," Clara smiled and reached out to stroke her fingers lightly along the guitar strap that crossed his chest.

The Doctor's chest puffed up visibly as he returned her smile and stepped closer to allow Clara to wrap her hand fully around the strap, "Oh it's the guitar, is it?"

"You know very well," Clara answered as she pulled him to her.

"I'm no good at pretending to not know something," he said by way of explanation, "comes with being so god-like."

Clara's hands slid up his chest and around his back, "You are insufferable," she stated.

"Mmm-hmm," the Doctor murmured, pulling on the zip of her coveralls. He smiled happily when he saw that she wore nothing but a dark blue matching bra and knickers beneath, "Like unwrapping a sweet," he said huskily.

"Still with the charm," she moaned as he slid his hands over her breasts and down her bare stomach.

"You make it easy," he said as his hands moved up and under the shoulders of her coveralls to push them off of her upper body.

"Feel like I'm making it too easy on you," Clara said as she shrugged out of the garment. "The TARDIS obviously has ideas about it," she observed and motioned with her chin directly behind the Doctor.

He glanced over his shoulder to see that a rather large, and comfy, bed had appeared behind him. "She's a helpful beast."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going for a slow burn here. Remember, comments make me write faster. Feed the beast, dear readers.

"Have a seat," the Doctor offered. He kept his eyes on Clara as he placed his guitar in its stand near the amp. 

Smiling, Clara sat on the edge of the bed. The TARDIS took it upon itself to play some music quietly in the background. Clara wasn't certain but thought she recognized it as The Clash. She grinned, suddenly feeling like a teenager having snuck into a boyfriend's bedroom. 

The Doctor made a vague motion toward the music as he stalked toward the bed. "She knows what I like," he said with a toothy side grin. Clara reclined on the bed, her coveralls puddled around her hips. He stepped between her feet, lecherously waggling his eyebrows, as he chewed on his bottom lip.

Going down on one knee, the Doctor unlaced her boots and pulled off her socks. Clara lifted her hips so that he could pull the coveralls from her body entirely; they joined her boots and socks on the floor. Placing his hands on her feet, the Doctor held her steady as he kissed the inside of her knee.

Clara stuttered breathlessly as his hands slid up her calves to rest on her knees. The wolfishly hungry look he was giving her made Clara's heart race. Placing soft kisses on her inner thighs, the Doctor admitted, "This almost makes me crazy enough to write a song."

"Do I inspire you?" Clara laughed.

"In more ways than I could say," he answered her as he brushed his lips softly across her knickers. Clara smiled sweetly at the lovely compliment. "But even I have limitations; I'm crap with rhymes," he smiled and kissed his way up and onto her stomach. 

Clara groaned and reached for him as his nose brushed up her torso.

"Hands behind your head, please, Miss Oswald," he breathed as he nuzzled her breasts.

"I...," Clara protested. One heated look from the Doctor and she did as she was told, tucking her hands beneath her head.

"I'm sure that I could find a guitar strap or two, if you need to be tied down," he offered helpfully.

Clara moaned at the mental image he was purposefully planting in her brain, "I'm definitely making it too easy on you."

The Doctor chuckled as he laid down next to her, brushing his hands up her thighs, making patterns on her belly. "Don't feel too badly," he consoled her, "you know I always win."

"Insufferable boy," Clara panted as he opened the front clasp on her bra. Her hips bucked as he palmed one breast, his thumb circling her nipple to a tight peak.

Clara could swear she heard a low growl pass his lips as he leaned over her to take the nipple between his lips, lathing her flesh with his tongue. She whimpered and rubbed her thighs together as he moved to the other breast, first licking her nipple and then blowing softly over the moistened nub.

Pulling one nipple into his mouth, and sucking harder, the Doctor slid his long fingers down to Clara's core to palm her softly over the top of her knickers. When she moved her hips, attempting to grind against his palm, he chuckled and lightened his touch.

"Doctor," Clara said breathily.

"Yes, my Clara?" he asked almost conversationally as he went back to petting her lightly through her knickers.

"Please," Clara begged, "I...oh, please...," she panted.

The Doctor went back to nuzzling at her bare breasts, "Such incoherence," he teased, "I thought that you taught English for a living. No wonder the British school system is in such a state."

Clara groaned with frustration, "Would you just like me to just go on begging?" She laughed despite feeling just the tiniest bit cross with him.

He leaned down and placed kisses along her collarbone, nuzzling at her jaw so that she would turn to him. "I have several answers to that question, many of them contradictory," he admitted. He nipped at her lips with his teeth as his fingers traced the waist of her knickers. "But, ultimately," he whispered huskily, "I am a believer in showing mercy," and then he took her mouth in a hungry kiss as he slid his fingers into her knickers to caress her wet sex.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor just can't be rushed- he has a very complex technique but Clara isn't complaining. Comments make me write faster.

Chapter Four

Clara arched her back, moaning loudly. "Doctor," she hissed.

The Doctor broke the kiss to bury his face in Clara's shoulder. 

She turned her body to press as much of herself against The Doctor as she could manage. Her fingers gripped the duvet behind her head as she did her best to follow his earlier command. Her writhing hitched up his t-shirt so that her bare hip found the smallest strip of skin at The Doctor's lower stomach, to rub against. 

When he turned more fully toward her, Clara sighed as she felt a wiry strip of grey hair above The Doctor's navel caress her thigh. Beneath that, she could feel the press of the flat studs that lined his belt, digging into her flesh. The buckle was a bit chilly as it brushed against her but Clara didn't mind. All the tactile points about being naked like this beneath The Doctor, who remained fully clothed, were coming together to create a surreal aesthetic that had her groaning with desire.

"I wonder what my Clara likes," The Doctor whispered huskily into her ear as his fingers stroked and circled over her center. Finding that the lips of her sex were quite slick already, his clever fingers moved further down to dip into her. 

Clara gasped and moved her legs as far apart as her knickers would allow. The confinement added a completely new level to her experience. She only wished that The Doctor would allow her to touch him. She wanted to pull him hard against her body and move all over his wiry frame. "I like this," she panted, "but," she stopped to keep from allowing a whine to enter her tone, "but, I'd like to feel more of you."

"In time," The Doctor nuzzled at her neck as he slid his fingers further into her, so agonizingly slow that she wanted to scream. "If I know my Clara," he posited as he began a slow and steady rhythm, thrusting his fingers softly into her, "I would guess that she doesn't like things soft, slow, safe." Each syllable was lovingly delivered to her ear, coupled with a thrust of those wonderfully long fingers.

"No," she agreed, turning her head to kiss along his jawline.

"My Clara likes things fast, exciting, even a bit dangerous." The Doctor chuckled when he felt Clara suddenly hold her breath, perhaps wondering how those particular words fit into this situation. Then, moving quickly to cover her body with his own, The Doctor pulled her to him for another rough kiss just as his fingers sped up their movements. 

Clara gasped as The Doctor's fingers thrust into her, hard and fast, building a steady wave of pleasurable shocks to her sex. That clever thumb slid upward to find the hard nub of her clit, never breaking the circular pattern, that was quickly driving Clara to the edge, as his fingers filled her again and again. 

The Doctor continued to move his lips hungrily against Clara's mouth as his torso pressed her into the bed. Clara was fairly certain her fingers tore several seams in the duvet that she gripped as her back arched hard against the wonderfully comforting weight of The Doctor's lean frame. His t-shirt rode up even farther so that his warm skin moved against hers while his hand brought her steadily closer to her release.

Clara gasped loudly against The Doctor's mouth as he managed to hit a particularly pleasant spot inside of her. She tore her mouth from The Doctor's as, taking a deep breath, Clara held it for a moment, her pleasure racing through her in waves. She came to herself, shaking a bit, her throat hoarse from screaming.

The Doctor watched her, a look of wonder in his eyes, "I've seen a lot of things in my time, Clara," he told her, "but that was one of the most beautiful."

Clara smiled, still breathing heavily, "You just can't switch it off, can you?"

"The charm is a curse, to be sure," he smiled as he kissed her softly. "You know, Clara, that the TARDIS contains all of time and space."

"Yeah," Clara answered him, her brow furrowing as she wondered what he was on about.

"The TARDIS can even freeze small pockets of time, use them like a playback tape," he informed her as he reached up to capture her hands. Clara sighed with happiness as he wrapped her arms around his torso, encouraging her to slide her fingers under his t-shirt to caress his bare skin.

"Yeah?" Clara said absentmindedly, obviously distracted by the feel of her hands on The Doctor's back and shoulders.

"Would you like to see?" he asked and then, without waiting for an answer, spoke several words of Gallifreyan to the TARDIS.

Clara's eyes went wide, and she clutched The Doctor to her tightly as she felt her orgasm building again. The Doctor's hands were softly caressing her hips, "How are you doing...?" Clara stopped speaking as her second orgasm moved through her rapidly. 

"Beautiful, love, my Clara," The Doctor panted as he watched her body flush and shake against him, moving through yet another release.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This just keeps going and going...

Clara woke some time later, it was hard to tell aboard the TARDIS, to find herself alone in the bed. 

"Next time you gamble, make sure to play the number seven," a quiet brogue advised her. Clara laughed quietly and rolled over.

The Doctor sat on a chair, his bare feet propped on his amp, strumming his guitar quietly. His t-shirt was gone; he wore his dark hoodie, unzipped, baring his chest. "That is a purposeful image," she smiled at him.

He looked down at himself, pretending surprise, "What, this? Well, someone drooled on my t-shirt and I haven't done the wash in weeks."

Clara touched the side of her mouth self-consciously, "Next time you pleasure me into unconsciousness, make sure to bring a towel."

The Doctor laughed as he played several low and bluesy tones, his fingers sliding over the frets softly. "You learn something new every day; even when you've been alive for two milenia."

Clara propped herself up on her elbows, "Coming back to bed?"

He shrugged his shoulders while continuing to strum his guitar, "Convince me."

"Now you're playing hard to get?" Clara asked incredulously.

The Doctor merely gave her a hungry look as he played a B7 chord, letting it ring out.

Clara threw back the sheet that The Doctor had covered her with and stood up out of the bed. Keeping eye contact, she bent over, shimmying out of her knickers and throwing them to the floor behind her. The Doctor strummed a now very familiar intro as Clara stalked toward him, a lecherous smile playing on her face.

He gave up his guitar easily as she reached for it, placing it in the stand next to him. The Doctor leaned back, expecting, wishing for, Clara to straddle his lap. Instead, she dropped to the floor between his legs, and reached for his belt.

He moaned his approval as she unbuckled him and opened his trousers. Getting a good grip on the belt, she quickly pulled it from the loops. 

The Doctor watched as Clara stood up and circled around behind him. "Hands," she commanded.

He happily complied, placing his hands behind the chair. He felt Clara take them up and wrap the belt around both his wrists before pulling it as tight as she was able. The Doctor groaned as Clara stood back up, allowing the naked length of her torso to brush against him. He laid his head back against her bare breasts as she reached down to move her hands over his torso and stomach.

The muscles of his chest quivered beneath her touch, The Doctor rubbing his head softly against any part of her that he could reach. Clara reached further down, into his boxer shorts, to wrap her fingers around the hard length of him. Pushing the waistband of his pants down, she was able to free him; her fingers circling around his shaft and giving him a few feather-light strokes.

The Doctor groaned loudly, "My Clara."

She circled back around to the front, resuming her position on her knees, between his legs. Bending down to place a soft kiss on the head of his cock, Clara breathed, "My Doctor."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

The Doctor prided himself on his ability to overcome any difficult situation. His ego had kept him alive in countless battles that would have destroyed a more humble man. So, he struggled to apply this same self-preservation technique in the situation that he currently found himself in; Clara on her knees, her warm mouth and tongue lightly tracing his hard shaft. Her twinkling eyes were watching his face, gauging his reactions, and The Doctor was doing his utmost to not break the eye contact.

Clara was doing her best to elicit a response that would force him to close those bright blue eyes and throw his head back against the chair. She wanted to see his bare chest and shoulders strain against the confinement of the studded belt tied around his wrists, wanted the image of The Doctor's hips thrusting forward, begging for his release. 

The Doctor suffered from a severe case of lead-singer syndrome; he did not like relinquishing control. But, he enjoyed the current power struggle; Clara's hands gliding over his thighs and lower stomach, grasping his hips and pulling forward, while she moved toward him, so that his member disappeared, with agonizing slowness, between her soft lips. He knew that she would have to blink at some point; but he refused to refresh his eyes; he didn't want to miss one moment.

The Doctor's toes curled so hard against the floor of the TARDIS that they cracked. The belt, that Clara had tied rather tightly, around his wrists was beginning to dig into his hands. He cataloged every feeling, recorded every image of Clara's lips wrapped around the head of his cock, every swipe of her tongue along his shaft, every touch of her fingers on his hips and stomach and chest.

Giving up on the power struggle, and noting the triumphant smile that crossed The Doctor's face as she lowered her gaze to her most interesting of tasks, Clara circled one hand around the base of his member, her thumb stroking upward, and gave in to a delightful pattern of long, slow licks, and kisses. She noticed The Doctor's right foot tapping against the floor, to the rhythm of the music that the TARDIS continued to pipe into the room, and so she sat back on her heels, letting him slide from her mouth. "Boring you?" she asked cheekily, motioning to his tapping foot.

The Doctor, panting slightly, chuckled at the obviously ridiculous question. His hard member, still wet from her licks and kisses, lay against his lower belly, twitching with his movements, evidence of his intense interest. "New body," he explained, "highly sensitive."

The feeling that she was debauching a young boyfriend returned making Clara swell with a bit of pride, tapping in, still further, to her naughty streak. She smiled seductively and stood up from the floor. The Doctor's gaze swept over her lovely form, his tongue darting out to lick at suddenly dry lips, "Come here, my Clara," he rasped, motioning for her to sit in his lap.

"Still giving orders," she chided as she moved to stand over him. The Doctor slid a bit lower in the chair to accommodate her shorter stature as she straddled his slim hips. "How much of you would I have to tie up before you stopped feeling in control."

The Doctor strained forward to nuzzle Clara's breast as she sat back on his thighs, her sex brushing against his cock, "I would happily devote a good amount of time to such an experiment," he offered.

Clara hummed with interest as she splayed her hands out and brushed them up his stomach and over his pectorals. Leaning forward, she placed kisses all along his chest. When she circled one nipple with her tongue, and then followed it up with a soft bite, The Doctor bucked against her and groaned her name.

"That sounded rather close to begging," she observed as she raised herself up and reached between them to grasp his shaft.

"I don't beg," The Doctor panted, his eyes trained on Clara's hand as it grasped his cock, rubbing it against the moist lips of her sex.  


"You're lucky that I'm feeling so impatient just now," Clara informed him as she leaned forward to kiss his lips softly while sinking down onto him, taking him completely into her tight warmth.

They both groaned into the kiss as Clara settled back into The Doctor's lap, grinding. Clara buried her hands in his hair, pulling him hard against her as she began to rock against him. Her toes providing leverage against the floor, she moved her hips in a slow but steady rhythm, allowing The Doctor to nearly slip from her entirely before moving down to take him in again. 

The Doctor's shoulders strained forward, his hips moving to meet Clara's thrusts, while their heated kiss went on and on. Clara broke the kiss, leaning her forehead against The Doctor's, as she continued moving against his thrusting, so that she could get some much needed oxygen. The contact allowed The Doctor to open a link to her mind.

He gasped and then chuckled quietly as Clara recognized what he was doing and so started sending him all of the mental images that she could muster. Every desire that she had had for him, every scenario that she'd created as she would touch herself in her bed at night, came through in vivid detail. The Doctor groaned as Clara squeezed her sex around his shaft, "You'll have to make me a new set of cards for all this."

Clara chuckled as she circled her hips against him. The zip of his trousers were biting into her ass each time she took The Doctor into her fully and she was enjoying the contrasting pain with the immense pleasure she was taking from riding him. 

The Doctor hooked his chin over Clara's shoulder so that he could pull her closer. She took the cue and, sliding her arms around his neck, hugged him tightly. The added intimacy of a hug was The Doctor's undoing. He buried his face in Clara's neck and, panting loudly, thrust his hips up into her welcoming body. The words he bellowed were a mixture of her name and several phrases in, what Clara assumed was, Gallifreyan as he found his release.

Clara sat back to kiss The Doctor tenderly, her hands rubbing softly against his chest. "You're just lucky that the TARDIS won't take commands from me," Clara told him.

The Doctor laughed at the implication, "Remind me not to teach you Gallifreyan."

DW12DW12DW12DW12

Some time later, after they had both had a shower and something to eat, Clara found The Doctor in the TARDIS control room. She wordlessly handed him a deck of newly written cards and then quickly turned on her heel to return to other more mundane tasks.

The Doctor shuffled through them, grinning and chuckling to himself, "Yeah, yeah, that'd work," he muttered. "Clara," he asked of the retreating young woman, "could we substitute the chocolate on this card?" He waved one of the cards at her, "I think you'd taste much better in lemon custard."


End file.
